The rickety old barn door wouldn't close properly. Not until he put his entire weight against it and pressed, and not even then did it manage to keep the snow and the howling wind out properly. Well, no matter; at least they had some shelter in here.

After Judeau had barred the door, enough to make sure that it wouldn't suddenly fly open again, he hurried over to the other end of the barn where his horse had walked off to with its precious burden.

There was still some straw left in here - quite a big pile of it, actually - all heaped together in a seemingly dry corner. Again, Judeau sent a prayer of gratitude up to his lucky star as he carefully eased Caska's limp body down from the horse's back and onto the softly rustling straw.

"Come on, Caska, come on," he mumbled frantically as he removed her thick scarf and begun searching for a pulse. "Don't die, please don't die on me, not now, not when I've finally found you, come on, don't die..."

Her skin was frightfully cold and so pale that its dark colour seemed more grey than brown. Her lips were much too blue. Judeau tore his fingerless under-glove off and pressed his whole hand against the side of her neck. "Come onnn..."

There. A weak, slow rhythm, barely noticeable. Oh thank God. He pulled his cap off and leaned down until his ear almost brushed her lips, and felt her faint, irregular breaths whisper against it. Still alive - so far, so good. Judeau let out a deep breath that he didn't even know he had been holding, and allowed himself a brief moment to look around.

The barn was very, very bare and very simple. Except for the pile of straw in the corner, the horse and the two people, there was absolutely nothing in it. On the walls nearer to the door, there were a few hooks and nails that might once have held farming tools like pitchforks and shovels, but the family that had lived here had probably taken all such equipment along with them when they'd moved away from the approaching war. Or maybe not - some thoughtful soul must have left this hay here for wayward wanderers - but if they'd left anything else it had probably been plundered by now. But that didn't matter. All Judeau needed right now was shelter from the worst of the wind and a reasonably warm and dry place, and both of these had been provided.

If there really was a god, Judeau would definitely have to shake his hand someday.

"Wake up, Caska," Judeau mumbled, trying to rub some warmth back into her arms through the heavy cloth of her coat. "Come on, wake up. Please wake up."

There was something wrong about Caska's coat. Judeau paused, carefully feeling the cloth under his fingers, and then reached for her discarded scarf.

With a curse, Judeau dropped the scarf and hurriedly unbuttoned Caska's coat. Just as he had suspected, all of her clothes underneath the coat had somehow gotten wet, and then frozen after she'd collapsed in the snow. Now, this was seriously bad. The only way to save her from freezing to death now would be to...

...Oh, damn...

He hesitated, his eyes involuntarily travelling down her prone form.

...He'd have to...

He covered his mouth in bewilderment and let out a long, strained breath.

...take off... and...

Shaking his head roughly, he pushed the hesitation away and returned to the task at hand - the most important job he had ever been assigned: Saving Caska's life. There was no other way, and that was the simple truth. He'd just have to try to be a gentleman about it.

As if that was really going to help, in the end.

"She's going to kill me in the morning," he groaned quietly to himself, but began unbuttoning her thick blouse nonetheless.

As he got further down through the different layers of clothing, he got more and more uncomfortable about it. On one hand, for every garment removed, he was getting one step closer to a really painful payback if... no, when she woke up, and on the other, he was starting to feel very guilty about that small part, in the furthest, most inconsequential recesses of his mind, which was really, really enjoying doing this.

Try not to think about it as 'undressing Caska', he told himself. Think of something else. Just think of something else.

How could this have happened in the first place? Her outer coat was covered in snow, but none of it had melted - and even so, it would have taken a good, long time for any water to seep down through all the layers like this.

The answer came to him as he felt a chilly wetness around his own ankles. Of course - Just as he had gotten snow into his boots while trudging through it, she must have gotten it under her coat when she was thrown off her horse. Then the warmth of her body had melted the snow, and the wetness had chilled her that much faster. What incredible luck that he had found her when he had.

And, for that matter, what luck that he'd remembered seeing an old barn in this area when the Hawks had passed it, a few days ago. He remembered thinking that it was odd that the adjoining houses had been burnt down by enemy raiders, but not this one, rickety old building. What luck.

Now, there was only her sleeveless undershirt left, and it covered precious little of her cold, cold body.

It was also completely drenched.

Oh yes, he was a dead man.

Trying not to touch any sensitive areas, Judeau averted his eyes and quickly removed this last piece of clothing. At least now, he could honestly say that he hadn't taken advantage of the situation.

"I just hope she'll believe me, too," he muttered as he hurriedly pulled out the thick, dry blanket from his saddlebag and swept it around Caska. "Then maybe she'll just pound me to a pulp."

Luck again, he thought as he stripped off his own clothes, or maybe just good common sense that I thought of bringing that blanket along.

She's going to kill me.

Why, oh why did she have to try to take a short cut? Why did she have to place herself in this danger? I should be angry at her, really! Recklessly endangering herself... for Him, of course. Always for Him.

He hesitated, hands on the strap of his hosen. They clung to his ankles, wet and numbingly cold.

He really should take them off, too - for his own sake.

His breath was forming misty clouds in the darkness, and every little hair on his body was trying to stand on edge.

"S-so cohh-cold..."

No. Hosen stay on. Otherwise, come payback time... Judeau shivered, and only partially because of the cold.

As an afterthought, Judeau made his horse lay down on the hay before he crept in under the blanket, so he could press his back against the beast and take advantage of its body heat as well. Then, in one swift but careful movement, he wrapped his arms around Caska and pulled her tightly against himself.

Her back was so shockingly, painfully cold against his chest that all he could do was gasp and hold on to her body for dear life, until the desperate impulse to push her away again finally begun to fade. Shivering and trembling, Judeau carefully curled up around her, taking her hands in both of his and holding them close. He then draped one leg over hers, trying for a while to curl his toes around her freezing ones. Anything to drive that awful coldness away.

"C-come on, C-Caska," he whispered through chattering teeth, "Come on. D-don't die on me. Don't... give up now." He pressed his forehead against the back of her neck, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to make himself stop trembling so. "D-don't give up, okay? You c-can't give up. Just... d-don't die. Please don't die."

He kept whispering pleas and encouragements for a while, mostly to distract and encourage himself. He knew full well that Caska wasn't going to come to anytime soon, but he really didn't want to think about how serious the facts of her condition could be - Or the more acute problem of whether or not either of them were going to make it through the night; the storm showed no sign of calming and sometimes the icy winds rattled the barn so forcefully that Judeau thought the whole construction was going to come crashing down on them.

But so far, the thick blanket and the warm horse - who casually nibbled at the hay and seemed to have no greater desire at this time than to remain right where he was - managed to keep the numbing cold at bay. After a while, Judeau found himself drifting off into a restless half-slumber, as jumbled, dreamlike images and impressions of the earlier day rose unbidden into his consciousness.

This whole ordeal must have taken a worse toll on me than I first suspected, Judeau thought. I feel almost feverish. And so tired...

...But then, it has been quite a stressful day...

...Indeed...

.....